


Fanfiction #2 Setting: General, Pairing: Russia/America

by December Dragon (StarlightOnInk), Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov (StarlightOnInk)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crack, Do Not Take Seriously, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:18:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/December%20Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/Deputy%20Commissioner%20Gleb%20Vaganov
Summary: Ivan is inspiring, and provides strength for Alfred to keep going- and vice versa.(Don't take seriously the contents of this though, it exists just to write a very bias perspective)





	Fanfiction #2 Setting: General, Pairing: Russia/America

Even America was capable of trying. That did not guarantee success by any stretch of the imagination; But that could not be helped. He was still America, after al, and sometimes with him, the best outlook is “it's the thought that counts.”

 

Which was why it was superfluous for him, when honored by laying with Russia, Ivan, to kiss the numerous scars littering Russia's strong body as proof of the selfless sacrifices he had made for his people and land. Sure, Russia was a sentimental person, but it was clear America thought he might actually be healing them with his touches. It was, of course, nonsense. Russia needed no healing; the thirst for productivity and his innate strength made him invulnerable to phantom pains and ghosts etched into his skin (if anything, it was a show of how much America needed such touches and caresses where his carelessness and shortcomings left a mark on his smaller body- which Russia most nobly obliged).

 

However, it was not just the goodness in his heart or the blessing of his love that made Russia earnestly enjoy the attention America scrambled to give him, never bestowing the amount he deserves, but giving an appreciative effort.

 

No, Russia saw the actions for what they were: someone caring for him. Admittedly, often throughout his hard life (it was not a challenge to him, graced as he was with such strength of character) he had been his greatest advocate, the one who fought for and bandaged himself at the end of a brutal day fighting for what was right. And here was America- humble, flawed, imperfect America- awed so thoroughly by Russia's inspiring history and promising legacy, wanting him to feel safe.

 

Of course Russia felt safe; he had secured for himself a position of respect and influence as the leading world power. But America was here making absolutely sure Russia knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was cared for.

 

And for that, we can forgive America much of his flawed nature. For Russia has taught him much of morality and love in their time together.

 

Likewise… Russia knew every one of America's scars, his failures mapped across his body, a reminder of what he let happen, and a reminder of what happened while he received such wounds. Other suffered while he was being beaten. Others suffered  _ because _ he was being beaten, rather than being there, saving them, protecting them. It was a hard blow to have to face each day in the mirror, in unthinking glances downward to a body ruined by not being good enough. It was a cruel reminder he knew he deserved to face, that the Russian fervor for embracing his own suffering as justice taught him he ought to face every day.

 

Russia, on the other hand, was a protective soul. And those gentle hands, so strong, stronger really than America's, caressed every one with a touch that was actually healing. It did not erase them, and that was fine. America would not want them wiped from him; they were proof to himself and those he had let down that he had failed, that he had much to make up for.

 

Russia's touches granted him relief for a bit. He allowed himself to sink into the warmth of the idea that… it was okay to be comforted. That he deserved to be. So much so, that America, for a moment, could enjoy it. Could let himself shed the mantle of guilt that had sewn itself into the very threads of second guessing and futile wishing and self resentment that had garbed him for awhile.

 

For that, though he did not deserve any of it, America was very grateful. And though he never could, he always resolved to thank Russia however he could.


End file.
